


A Skittish and Gay Halloween

by saphique



Category: Hocus Pocus (1993), Sabrina the Teenage Witch (TV), The Worst Witch (TV), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, HB is quite the lesbian ;-), Halloween, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9694373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphique/pseuds/saphique
Summary: Witches from other countries are invited to attend Cackle's Halloween celebrations. Constance Hardbroom has something to confess to Imogen Drill. *Thanks to my brilliant beta moon very thin who did an amazing job!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I published almost 10 years ago.. I thought it would be funny to bring it back

Fallen leaves carrying autumn colors paint the ground of Cackle's Academy, skittering among pumpkins judiciously arranged around the castle. For many weeks, lively preparations for the Halloween festivities have been underway and tonight, the most important night of the magical world will be celebrated. Foreign witches have been invited to attend the Halloween party, a reunion eagerly proposed by Davina and accepted by Amelia. The non-witch of the school, Imogen, is still unaware of this arrangement, since her lover Constance is supposed to notify her. It is not a fact that will bother Imogen, since she is quite sociable; it is really the deputy who is upset about it.

Miss Constance Hardbroom cannot bring herself to introduce the subject, even though the celebration is in a couple of hours. True, spiriting Miss. Drill out of the hallway, hiding her in an empty classroom, kissing her neck, her hands on her waist, has not encouraged Constance to begin any conversation. The non-witch, though very touched by her lover's attention, tries to talk sense into her - such as in rejoining the rest of the school members who are slowly preparing for the escapade in the forest.

"Constance, you know how much I want to be well-organized for this important occasion. You know, I never feel completely -Oh! - accepted"

The witch has transformed her hold into intimate strokes, creating surprised moans. It must be Constance's traditional outfit (the pointy hat, her untied hair and the magnificent robe) that produces this energy. It charges her body and makes her give way to these uncharacteristically public affections.

"Please, Constance…I'd like it, for one year, if I could –ah! - measure up…"

Measure up? To what?... Oh, yes! Halloween and magic. And the strange – if not so unfamiliar - witches. Constance must bring herself to talk about it. Pulling her lips away from Imogen's warm skin is a good start. As she does, she opens her eyes and is astonished by Imogen's beauty, by every aspect of her, everything that makes her the person she is; a marvelous, seductive, unique woman. Sometimes, Constance Hardbroom finds it hard to believe that Imogen isn't made by or with magic. Her chest is slowly rising and adjusting to a normal rhythm, since they have broken their embrace.

"There is something that needs to be discussed"

Imogen's eyes travel everywhere on the witch's body, as if amazed by her.

"This year, we are expecting a much larger audience than usual. Witches from distant countries will attend the ceremony."

"But that is great news! Why do you make it so bad? Are they aware that a non-witch will be there?"

Again, Imogen is worried about her outsider status. It was worst in the first years, but as soon as the professor had shown interest towards her, Imogen had gained confidence. How could she not, when the most powerful of witches had an eye on her and liked her enough to declare her feelings?

"Actually, they are quite responsive to your presence…"

"Then, what seems to be the problem?"

Usually headstrong, Constance cannot find the courage to answer to the question. Instead, she stares almost timidly at the floor beneath them and refuses to look up. If she had raised her head, she would have found a huge smirk on Imogen's lips.

"Are you telling me you want to keep our relationship quiet? You, dominant witch and deputy, you are intimated by the ethical qualms of our future guests?"

Amused and yet again insulted by that thought, Constance stares up at Imogen with a disapproving look. The non-witch can't control her laughter.

"Then tell me what it is!"

"Let's just say that we correspond…very positively to the ethics of a large majority of the invited witches"

****** / / / / / /

In the heart of the shadowy woods, orange light bulbs are tangled in the branches of the trees. Hosts of young witches in traditional dresses are gathered together, giggling and greeting each other. Black cats stalk through the shadows and strange sparks of magic flash in every corner, like fireworks. Meanwhile, Cackle's teachers are lined up at the entrance to the forest, welcoming the witches who are arriving by teleportation or by broom. First, Amelia and Davina shake hands and kiss cheeks with their guests then Constance greets them and presents Imogen, both as a non-witch and as her lover. Centuries ago, such a thing would have created consternation, but times change and non-witches are appreciated in the magical universe. Both women are stunning: Imogen's modest black dress covers her whole body, revealing every curve. Her makeup is light gold and blue. As for Constance, her robe and her cape are long and intricately detailed. The witch's brown hair shimmers beneath the full moon, and her lips are dark and black.

Imogen still cannot believe what Constance confessed to her less than an hour ago. Indeed, it is quite shocking. She perfectly understands why Constance kept it secret from her until the last possible moment, and she especially understands why Constance immediately disappeared after her declaration, leaving Imogen both dumbfounded and amused. But now, as the Halloween celebrations begin, Imogen's discomfiture is cemented by the Sanderson Sisters arrival… well, more particularly when Sarah Sanderson arrives. The blonde woman grabs Constance's neck and pulls her closer, smiling as if Constance is a pure gem she is happy to find. She presses her red lips to the side of Constance's and embraces her. Imogen's jaw drops. Seeing this, Mary Sanderson grabs Sarah's hand to take her away from Constance, as though she were sorry for her sister's behavior. They disappear into the forest, followed by Winifred who looks just as uptight, as usual, but who can't hide a smile directed to Constance. The deputy-headmistress seems pleased by all the female attention she's received. But the feeling quickly disappeared quickly as she sees Imogen staring at her in astonishment.

"I do not blame you for keeping a part of your past a secret from me, but don't you think you should have informed me about these romantic conquests a little bit sooner? Am I supposed to put up with all these women lurking around my partner, gaping at you with lust?"

Constance stares at her own feet. Imogen crosses her arms and looks away, towards the full moon.

"….and aren't the Sanderson sisters supposed to be bad witches?"

Of course, Miss. Hardbroom uses this question as a pretext to avoid the principal subject.

"Indeed, no. These ancient evil witches have atoned for their crimes by travelling back in time and altering things so that, in fact, they never committed those murders at all. They are now cheerful witches who unexpectedly love children."

As she speaks, Constance turns her gaze slowly in the direction of the fire, where the guests have gathered, and notices Sarah smiling back at her.

"Constance! Look at me!"

Miss. Hardbroom straightens up, in shame, as if she has been caught eating a candy before dinner. Imogen just can't believe it and starts laughing out loud, even though she still feels angry. Constance looks like a teenager.

They don't have time for any further discussion because two elegant women have arrived. Sisters Hilda and Zelda stand in front of Constance Hardbroom, amused smiles on their faces. They seem to be lost in total admiration before the dark-haired witch. Constance does not move, though she looks sideways at Imogen, as if trying to demonstrate to her that she has no interest in embracing these women. However, the two of them approach and drop a small kiss each on Constance's cheek. Imogen rolls her eyes and looks away.

"This is going to be a long night"

Understanding, Constance turns toward Imogen, wanting to restore Imogen's confidence in her by staring directly into her eyes, showing that this behavior – no matter how demonstrative – was strictly one-sided. However, the sudden appearance of a beautiful young witch pre-empts Constance's attempted reassurance. The newcomer stands expectantly before them. The disapproval is visible in 's eyes as Sabrina greets Constance. Brushing away the rebellious hair that has fallen across her own face, Constance steps aside to immediately present Imogen to Sabrina. The young witch rejoines her aunts by the fire, leaving Constance flushed. The PE teacher has not stopped staring, still taken aback.

"Please, Imogen! That girl was a child back then, you don't honestly think that I could have had an-"

"Of course not, but nothing is telling me you don't wish for it now!"

Stunned, Constance can't decide how to respond. Imogen is becoming more and more angry. Her beautiful figure is shaking a little from the movement of her foot as she taps it on the ground in her impatience. And yet, she looks so adorable when she is annoyed. Imogen is jealous: Constance can't believe that Imogen is jealous. If she dared to, she would smile about it…

"Are all witches women lovers?"

To that question, Constance looks over to Amelia, who had just taken a mouthful of cake and has her eyes closed as she savors it. She can't help but smile at the thought that she has never imagined Amelia having a sexual preference. As the smile appears on her face, it seems to cool down Imogen who scoots in closer.

******* / / / / / / /

The celebrations are a triumph. Imogen has seen magic she never suspected existed. She has seen hidden talents from her pupils and from other young witches. She has also seen far too many women staring at Constance in admiration. Throughout the night, late arrivals have continued to gather, including Samantha and her mother, an imposing woman in a green dress with ginger hair, who – unbelievably- ogled at Constance. Imogen thought that taking Constance's hand as a gesture to declare "she is mine", would not be a good idea. Yet not doing anything is also a bad idea. So Imogen simply continues to enjoy the social gathering, but helps Constance to keep a safe distance between them and the others. It is the full-moon, the night is bright and full of mystery and suddenly, Imogen finds it would be a wonderful night to spend alone with Constance. But she has to share. Alright, perhaps 'share' is not entirely the right word , but by the way Sarah and Samantha were looking at –

Constance kisses her. Discreetly. A kiss that is as gentle as it is unsuspected. Straight away, she feels like she is home with these familiar, beloved lips lightly pressed against hers. It doesn't last long. She still savors it. As Constance gets up to participated in the celebrations, a smirk appears on Imogen's face and she looks towards the guests whose smile have disappeared. As her gaze travels over them, she wonders if Constance has a thing for blondes.

******** / / / / / /

The warmness of the bed sheets simply overwhelms her and she giggles. It seems like this moment is the most comfortable she has felt all evening, ever since Constance got rid of her excessive clothing and lay down by her side. With her perfumed brown hair covering half of their bodies, Imogen feels protected. The shadows of naked trees caress them. Constance rests her head on her hand, looking down at Imogen with a remorseful glance.

"If you felt, well, offended, by this evening… It was never an meant as an opportunity to compromise what we…It was not intended to…"

"Let me ask you one last question…Constance…"

The witch tightens up, not daring to place the palm of her hand on Imogen's soft shoulder.

"Are you with me, because you are fed up or tired of being with witches…and…worse, do you think being with me will leave you bored or…"

There is no question that she is a powerful and fearsome witch, but at this exact second, Constance looks troubled. With glassy eyes she stares deeply into Imogen's blue gaze and slowly leans in to tenderly cover her lips.

"It is you that I wish for, I forget everything else, I forget that I wanted anything else. Yes, these witches were a part of my past, and I hope you understand that you are my present, and hopefully my future."

Between each sentence, Constance interrupts herself to place gentle kisses on Imogen's mouth, while she listens calmly. Her kisses deepen, become faster.

"I wish for you", kisses, "Only you", more kisses, "You fulfill me, you are magic itself", Constance throws her long legs over Imogen's, sliding her breasts over her lover's chest. "Imogen; you are more than enough for me…"

Distant running in the corridors is heard from each side of the dormitory, followed by girlish laughter. The festivity has not ended for the pupils, if the familiar sound of voices and suspicious crunching is any indication. The non-witch sincerely hopes Constance will ignore them, for once, so she holds on to her body more tightly. Constance thinks it is about lust, and forgiveness, so she keeps kissing Imogen everywhere - her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead… Crack, crunch, giggles… This time, Constance straightens up, she lifts an arm in the air as if preparing to get to the door and Imogen sobs.

"No, please, let them be…"

Constance smiles, continuing the movement with her arm to cast magic from her fingers. There is perfect silence.

"I have said, , that with you I forget anything else…"

It's Halloween, the one time of the year where Constance truly feels like herself, and sugar-craving young students will not distract her own feast.


End file.
